


Truth

by Nasyki Ikysan (Nasyki)



Series: Truth and Lies [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Graphic Description, M/M, Pseudo-Incest, Psychological Torture, Sadistic Bill Cipher, Triangle Bill Cipher, Violence, Voyeurism, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 00:51:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10910934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nasyki/pseuds/Nasyki%20Ikysan
Summary: Dipper wanted to know what Ford’s relationship with Bill was like. Now…he wishes he hadn’t learned.





	Truth

**Author's Note:**

> **Nasyki:** Please do not read this if you are under 18. This is some intense violence and torture. Ford is a dick. Bill is a triangle. And poor Dipper…
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own Gravity Falls or its characters. Disney does. Alex Hirsch is awesome. I do not profit from this purely fan made story.
> 
>  **Warnings:** Graphic violence, voyeurism, torture, minor, xenophilia, Triangle!Bill Cipher, Non-Con, Puking up organs, attempted murder, M/M, incest (see BillFord/Dipper)
> 
>  **Pairings:** Bill/Dipper (Main), Bill/Ford (Referenced), BillFord/Dipper (as in Bill possessing Ford…kinda)

A loud voice reverberated, “Ohhh…come on, Sixer. I bet you’re glad to see me,” as a small yellow triangle hovered about the lab. Long and spindly black arms slunk around items. The beast would glance at each object—with its great, singular eye—in an approximation of polite interest before casting them away with carefree indifference. Over its silk hat, each item would go, and into the chaos of the engineer’s atelier. Each action was followed by a crash and clatter as they tumbled to their final resting place.

Shifting through the hodgepodge of half-finished (and often unidentifiable) inventions, the yellow beast paid little mind to the elderly man that loomed in a corner of the room. This same man, that stood rim rodded, with tightly knitted muscles, pointing an oddly shaped gun-like gizmo at the triangle. An unforgiving expression dawned him as the gadget followed the small triangle’s every movement. Between the two, there was a noticeable imbalance in attitude: one cordial, the other hostile. Amidst them, a silent power play formed in an insane tension that shifted just below the surface. The nonchalant and eudemonic way the levitating creature gambled about contrasted to the atrabilious mien that existed on the elderly man. The standoff continued. The creature ambled thoughtlessly, and the sights of the weapon following every movement in an unerringly fastidious nature.

Unbeknownst to both man and monster, they were not alone. From the shadowed doorway, he watched.

“Absolutely not,” the elderly man deadpanned. Universal hesitance stalled the air into frozen indecision. He shifted his head slightly, and light refracted on his cracked glasses causing them to glimmer an opaque white. 

From the silence of the shadows, the denial caused a trill of fear faltered down the hiding child’s back willing him to shift further into the darkness. The floating triangle exuded an air of self-importance. To take well to the disrespect that was evident in the elderly voice, did not seem probable. The repercussions of the slight filled him with apprehension, even as suppressed the hope trickled into the back of his mind in quiet whispers. His Grunkle could take whatever the demon threw at him; he always knew what he was doing. This feigned optimism broke into his more prominent thoughts, and it was with a small burst of confidence that he found himself leaning forward. Drawing into the situation with a combination of voyeuristic curiosity and subconscious compulsion, carefully, he peeked his head into the lab—just that bit more—to try and see the reaction that the adamant denial would eke out.

The triangle’s attention had flittered away from the busy room and instead fixated onto the graying man. His single eye trailed noticeably up and down the idle form. It was with an equal amount of despondence, comparable to the creature’s disinterest to the inventions that made the child wonder if the man would be tossed to the side like any other piece if he were unable to hold its fickle attention.

As the seconds drew on, the boy’s anxiety increased into a tightly wound coil of paranoia and possibilities. His breath was stolen by tautness and he felt something jump in his throat when the shrill, “Ha!” shattered the silence like glass. The cachinnating continued for an awkwardly long amount of time before the sounds abruptly stalled. Eerily, the floating yellow form drew closer to the gun-wielding man. From the precarious position at the door, the child could not see everything that was happening. He could; however, see how the triangle suddenly expanded and grew exponentially in size. Soon, it towered over the elder and closed the distance between them. Face to demonic eye, the beast continued its amused tirade, 

“You’re hilarious! I’m sure you _missssed_ me.” The gun faltered in the man’s hand with an audible click. In that moment, there was a certain level of ambiguity to the situation. The elusive quality ran like shadows from the light, but the boy could only identify the uncomfortable wave of embarrassment overwhelmed him. In the right light, it had almost looked as though _Bill Cipher’s_ hands ghosted over his great uncle’s cheek. His ears rung and he barely caught the quiet, “We had such good times together.”

The statement put forth a heavy silence as someone let out a shuddering breath. The sound made the boy’s cheeks darken but he attempted to distract himself by focusing on his great uncle’s words. Gun shifting again in a low clanking accompanied by a mechanical whirring was enough to make the boy realize that the gun was being aimed and cocked. “Cipher, if you so much as attempt to touch me, so help me… I will pull the trigger on this particle displacer and it will take you eons to find enough of your atoms to put yourself back together.”

The reaction was instantaneous. Bill Cipher shrunk in size and floated to a more comfortable distance. His hands were raised in what was probably intended to be a placating shrug. “Sheesh! Touch _y_!” the demon attempted humor with a pun. “Haha~!” he laughed loudly, bringing his arms to hug his front surface. “See what I did there, Sixer?” Ford looked increasingly unimpressed, and the gun made a higher pitched whirring. “Oh, you’re no fun,” the triangle huffed in disappointment without showing any outward signs of such feelings. “But really, it’s been such a long time since we’ve seen each other. One would think, you were still angry about something.”

“I am still angry,” the man snapped loud enough to make the boy flinch from his hiding place. It also brought an intense feeling of curiosity. He’d never heard the man sound so angry before. What on earth could the yellow triangle have done to evoke such strong emotions?

Bill seemed particularly put out by the anger and let out an exasperated huff. “It’s been _years_ …jeez…meatbags and their inability to get over perceived slights.”

This was apparently not the right thing to say. His uncle momentarily lowered his weapon in shock. “Perceived slights, Cipher? _Really_?” He gesticulated wildly with a great sweeping motion with his hand as though it didn’t hold a weapon at all. “You have grossly under-estimated the severity of the situation.” He bit out clearly. “You used me, and manipulated me. And—and—and—Ahrrrggg!!! In the worst possible ways that you can to a human—!”

The embarrassment was back again, and it was so strong this time that he could feel the heat rising from his shoulders upward. As much as he tried to deny it, something in the way that his Grunkle said that made him think of intimacy. He couldn’t tell if the inflection was intentional or not…but it certainly made it sound as though they had something going on between them. His lips went dry as he tried to force the thought out of his head.

“Haha! Look at you! Getting all flustered just thinking about it.” Bill laughed ecstatically with an inviting lilt to his tone.

Worst of all, the thought of _Bill Cipher_ and his _Grunkle Ford_ being intimate flooded his mind much more persuasively. But he couldn’t suppress it now.

Bill continued, “I hardly see that I did anything wrong. After all, I am not a pathetic meatsack. Multi-dimensional being of pure energy here, _helllooooooo_. We were playing a game. You should think of it more as a round of cosmic chess. You’re just upset because you lost.”

“You are an insufferable monster!”

“Come ooonnnn...we had some good times together, and some _even better_ times together.” Bill leered across the room with his fingers interlaced. The way that he leaned into that sentence and fluttered his eyelashes only helped to further the implications of the statement. “I can’t help the fact that you got boring and I had to up the ante. We could have taken it to a whole _new level_ …but nooooo. You got cold feet—” Bill gestured to Ford’s feet as ice slowly started to creep up his boots. The motion was quickly stopped as the man stomped his feet and the ice fell away. Bill continued without pause, “—and were too worried about the consequences of your actions. You had a perfect opportunity to attempt to beat me at my game, and instead of playing to win, you threw down your cards and kept your chips.” Bill opened his hands and a deck of playing cards appeared. He reached his hand back before shooting the makeshift projectile across the room toward Grunkle Ford’s face. However, the man just aimed the gun and fired. The deck of cards was hit by a burst of light and promptly turned them to dust before getting remotely close to touching him. Again, Bill ignored the response as though he expected it. “ _That_ hardly seems like playing fair. But you don’t see me holding a grudge.”

“I don’t want to play games with you.”

“Why, Sixer! Who said I was offering?” Bill simply rolled his eye.

“I know you too well, Cipher.” Ford glared, aiming the gun at the center of Bill’s eye.

This comment did evoke more than simple irritation. Bill’s black hands shifted into tight fists and his eye leveled into a threatening squint. “I think,” he began in carefully restrained ire, “that you think we are playing the same ol’ game of Black Jack. But, we are well into a game of poker and you don’t even know the rules yet!”

From the secluded shadows, the boy was beginning to feel a bit like he was watching a train wreck as the chain reaction continued and the two entered into an endless kind of bickering. It was something he simply couldn’t look away from. Slowly peeking more from his corner he was becoming less and less worried about being caught snooping when their attentions were so clearly taken.

“I don’t have to know the rules when I know how you think. Besides! This is not a game!” Ford shook his gun for emphasis, as though to annunciate the seriousness of the situation.

“Jeez…you really don’t learn do you? You have to start from square one. Rule one; you can’t play outside the rules—”

The boy’s sight of the room was suddenly interrupted. A dark figure shaded the light that poured into his hiding space, but he could still hear his great uncle and Bill continue their argument as he stared blankly at the white that took over his vision. In one staggering moment, he realized that it was the white of a large eye when a long slit pupil adjusted onto him. He felt the air leave his lungs as he suddenly realized that he had been caught. _Crap._

“What is this that we have here~!” Bill whispered ominously as he peered down at the unmoving form of the youth. It was odd that he could still hear the shrill sound of Bill from across the room talking animatedly at Ford. It took his brain a moment to recover enough to realize that there were two separate Bill’s now. Even if he screamed to get Ford’s attention, the man might not realize that this Bill had him. The fear of what Bill would do to him in that moment kept him rooted to his spot.

“Pine Tree!” Bill greeted happily, and the sound was grating enough to shoot a shock of pain through his ears. He wanted to open his mouth to say something, but couldn’t think of anything that would be effective enough to get him out of this situation. “I should tell you, being an espial is a dangerous thing, if you get caught. But, that would imply that I didn’t know you were there, or that your appearance was unexpected. Soooo…I won’t. I’m always watching, after all.” The demon laughed to himself and the boy tried to keep himself from shivering. Regret colored him a nasty shade at that moment, and he wondered why he would have allowed himself to be lured here. At this moment, it was clear that Bill had led him here to begin with. “You are right on time. Better than on time! You’re perfect~!”

Bill continued to smile as brightly as a triangle with only an eye could manage. He certainly did not want to be perfect for whatever Bill needed him for. In fact, he wanted to be perfect about as much as he wanted to be on time with anything involving Bill. But, that small amount of confidence that was slowly building up in his sea of weakness wanted him to act. He wanted to do something and be strong and cool like Ford. He wanted to be able to stare down Bill like his uncle. Straightening himself up, he attempted his most commanding voice, “W-wait! Bill! What are you doing with Grunkle Ford?” Internally, he cringed as his voice cracked out as a nervous squeak.

Bill ignored him completely for a moment as he looked over his side momentarily, before returning his attention to the child. He clapped his hands together loudly, “Chop-chop, Pine Tree!” and made a gesture for him to come forward. “No time to explain! Step this way~!” 

He wanted to open his mouth to tell the demon, ‘ _no, I’m not going to do anything you say_ ’ or something similar. Time; however, was lacking and he was unable to say anything at all. In the next moment, the frigid surface of the triangle was pressed against him and its boneless arms were wrapping around his torso. He was shrinking: slowly imploding on himself. Darkness surrounded him, and when he moved to breathe it was as though he didn’t have lungs.

“—I don’t care what you have to say, Cipher. It doesn’t matter—” he could hear uncle Ford say in distant distorted words. The sound was not unlike hearing words through water. Though it seemed much thicker than water…like molasses.

“—Ahhhhh !—” The next thing he was aware of was that he had lungs again and that he could hear someone screaming. It took another breath and for the screaming to stall for him to also realize that it had been him screaming. He huddled in closer to himself, ignoring the shaking of his limbs. It took another five calming breaths before he realized that he was in the center of Grunkle Ford’s lab, and another three for him to notice that both of the other inhabitants in the room were still arguing. His uncle didn’t even seem to notice him on the floor a few paces away. The man didn’t bat an eye, as though it was normal for screaming people to appear and be writhing on the ground in Bill’s company. He couldn’t say that it wasn’t surprising, as it did seem like something up Bill’s alley…but the lack of recognition or even concern from his idol put a damper on his hope for how this situation would play out. Maybe Bill had done something to him, and Ford just couldn’t see him? He tried not to think too much into the fact that something like that seemed normal and even probable… It was certainly a testament to the summer that he had led so far.

Bill also ignored him for a moment longer as he continued, “Of course you don’t care. _You_ want to play outside the rules. But that’s not how it works. Anyway, I don’t need you because I have _this_! Sixer 2.0 ©!” Then the beast made a grand gesture to him and a slew of flashing arrows appeared and pointed to his crumbled person. It took a moment to follow the words and realize what Bill was saying. He did not want to think about the implications.

“Dipper?” Ford asked, suddenly surprised and glancing down at him.

The child felt a gush or relief when the old man seemed to recognize him sitting there and struggled to get off of the ground to stand on shaky legs. He bit his lip and tried not to look at Bill, even though he felt the single eye following his every movement. He wanted to know how Ford knew Bill, why they seemed to know each other so well, and most importantly why Bill had led him to his great uncle’s mindscape in the first place. “Grunkle Ford! What’s going on?” He squeaked out, hating the childishness of his voice and wishing, not for the first time that he had even a sliver of the amount of manliness that Manly Dan or his Grunkle Stan had.

The surprise turned to irritated indifference as he continued to look at his nephew. Finally, he frowned and shook his head in disbelief. “Please, Cipher. I’m not going to fall for this kind of trick. That is just one of your illusions. It’s not really Dipper. Dipper is safe in his own dreams, in his own bed.”

Cold, blood-stopping shock filled his small body as he felt his world shatter. “Grunkle Ford!” He gasped out, hoping beyond hope that this was just a dream in his own mindscape, and his uncle wasn’t really pointing the gun in _his_ direction now. Floundering for words and finding none, he glanced back to Bill. The utter incredulity that seemed to cover the normally inexpressive triangle was substantial enough to be completely outside his realm of imagination. It was enough to cement his thought that this was reality; or rather, as real as it could possibly get in his uncle Ford’s mindscape.

Having clearly not expected such an answer, Bill eventually recovered into a fit of laughter. “Ahaha! Wow~! You really are a _Great_ Uncle, Fordsy! You definitely have the wrap around protecting the children, if your first instinct in seeing your little nephew is to say he’s a fake!” The comment, unsurprisingly, stung and the insecure nephew shifted his blue and white hat so that it shaded the embarrassment on his face. Ford would realize it was really him. Ford would fix this by banishing Bill from his mindscape and help Dipper get back to his own.

The old man’s eyes flicked back to Bill, but the gun remained trained on the youth. “It’s not that Cipher. I just know how you think,” the man denied. There was a sense of superiority as he said it, though, as though he had just gotten one up on Bill. “Trying to use my family against me to get what you want... But I won’t fall for it.”

The cold spread to his fingertips and toes, and the boy tried to comprehend what was just said. He completely understood Ford’s logic. It was something that Bill would do. But he was wrong. He was so very, very _wrong_. This time, Bill was using the real Dipper against him. He wasn’t just playing a mind game. He was being serious. _Oh, god!_ —and perhaps this was the kind of rules that Bill had been talking about... —the ones that had changed. Maybe Bill had only ever played mind games with Uncle Ford in the past and hadn’t taken things up to the same level that he had been playing with Dipper. Like possessing people and using their body to create physical injury. _Oh god_ , uncle Ford knew that Bill was terrible, but he _really_ didn’t know what he was currently capable of. He didn’t know any of the rules of the horrible games that he played in reality. Part of the game now was that everything was real, and affected real people.

“Mmm…not that I couldn’t do that,” Bill said suddenly, apparently following what Ford was saying, but obviously wanting to disprove the theory. He suddenly snapped his fingers and Dipper watched as a terrified Mable appeared out of thin air.

“Bro-bro!” she screamed suddenly as she looked worriedly at Dipper. She rushed toward him, “Are you okay?” she asked as she took his hands in her own…but as Dipper watched her...even without Bill implying that she was fake…there was something in her movements…something in her tone…something in her that looked and felt so wrong that he would never believe that it was Mable. “Dipper?” she asked concerned, but the boy just shot a glare at Bill that he tried to convey with, ‘ _I know what my sister is like, and this isn’t her_ ,’ as much as he could silently. Bill’s eye quirked in amusement, but otherwise made no outward show of recognition. Instead, he simply turned back to Ford before he snapped his fingers. The boy gasped as a unicorn appeared forming of a dark mist. The white horse like creature reared back and let out an awkwardly epicene battle cry before stabbing his twin’s image directly in the back.

The loss of breath was instantaneous, “Mable!” the brunet gasped out. Even knowing that this wasn’t his sister and that what he saw was unreal, as he watched her eyes widen and dull, it wasn’t enough to withhold his reactions. In a haze, they both looked down at her chest in time to see as the horn pierced through the center of her body. It began as a small pinprick before widening in girth as it slid out of her with little resistance. Thick and tacky black tar began to seep out of her impaled chest. Dipper found himself gagging as her hands tightened against his and she leaned forward with her mouth opened into a silent scream as the terrifying black liquid began to leak out her nose and mouth—

Bill snapped his fingers a second time and the impaled Mable and unicorn both burst into a plume of black mist.

Dipper fell forward suddenly, having lost the extra stability that the imaginary Mable had created. On his hands and knees, he squeezed his eyes closed and gagged at the image of an impaled Mable that followed him into the darkness of his closed eyes. But even as he retched, nothing came out. His eyes felt moist, and his chest was tight with knots of anxiety. He really did not want to see anything like that again. Ever.

“But there are some limitations in that. Anyone can recognize a fake if they pay close attention in the mindscape.” Bill swung his cane as he shared a look with the still gagging Dipper. The jerk no doubt knew exactly what he had been thinking. He did; however, completely ignore the boy in lieu of looking at his great uncle Ford. “This,” Bill accentuated by using the cane to point, “is the real Pine Tree.”

The moment held in silence, and with a growing dread, Dipper turned away from Bill to face his uncle. The man seemed completely unimpressed. He cocked his gun, still aimed at Dipper, and the sound of the whirring energy denoted to the impending release. Dipper’s eyes widened concurrent to the slackening of his jaw and the petrifying of his body. He could not move. His uncle was going to shoot him. He was going to die. The gun fired.

Not wanting to stare into the eyes of his own demise, Dipper squeezed them closed in denial. There was a brief feeling of something tugging lightly on the sleeve of his shirt, yet the transition was only temporary. The wind was knocked out of him without warning when he was aggressively torn from the line of fire. There was a half a breath of weightlessness. Then only the smooth gravely sensation of the ground as his face slid across the linoleum floor. The silence continued to lapse, and it was another full minute of recovery before Dipper could turn his body to the two beings holding a staring contest. Much to his surprise, Ford’s expression was knitted in confusion and Bill was a seething red.

Ford was the first to break the silence, “Why on earth did you pull him out of the way?”

“YOU! YOU STUPID, STUPID MEATSACK. Arrrrrrrrr…I can’t believe you!” the triangle threw his hands up into the air and literal steam lifted off of his body. His voice was switching back from a demonic bass to his shrill tenor. “I _told_ you that is the _real_ Pine Tree. You know what happens to people injured in the mindscape of others. You should know the effect of using a weapon like that: it destroys the person’s mind! I was, even more, accurate than I thought when I said you’re a terrible uncle. Whose reaction to seeing their family is to shoot them?”

“That’s not my nephew,” Ford said as though that were the end of it. Dipper felt his body break into a cold sweat. His uncle Ford almost killed him. His uncle Ford still thought that he could kill him and nothing would go wrong. There were no words to describe the bubbling fear that concept elicited.

Bill seemed to calm down at that comment. The red drained completely out of his form and instead filled with the resonating yellow. “You…are an idiot. This is exactly the kind of thing that I was talking about! You don’t know any of the rules and you’re trying to make up rules and…jeesh. It doesn’t even work that way. I could make you a fake brother.” Bill waved a hand and suddenly a gruff looking Grunkle Stan appeared. “An _actually_ fake Pine Tree,” he made another sweeping gesture and Dipper was staring at a mirror image of himself. “Or even a fake _you_ and you would never be able to pick up on what makes them different. No matter what, you will never be able to see that I am telling the truth.” He lifted his hands, which suddenly lit into a bright blue fire, and then the fake Dipper and Stan were in flames and screaming. Dipper closed his eyes to the visage of his slowly dying self and covered his ears against the screams. “Sooo…fine. Ignorance is funny. Actually, this entire situation is hilarious! Look at me! I’m so kind that I’ll even play by your rules this once.”

Bill turned his attention to the still shivering boy. In the blink of an eye, the triangle was in front of him in an instant, and gripping tightly at his shoulders. Dipper screamed as the lab around them melted into and endless black and Bill drug Dipper so that he was closer to his currently homicidal uncle. Dipper tried to pull himself out of the insanely tight grip of the small inhuman hands. “Stop it, Bill!” he bit out through his struggle and watched as he was forced to kneel in front of Ford. He tried to keep the fear from his eyes as his uncle looked at him as though he were the dirt beneath his boot. “U-Uncle Ford…” Dipper tried suddenly, hyper aware of Bill’s small feet digging into his shoulders. But his uncle didn’t as much as look at him as he spoke.

“Mmmm…I think I want to hurt this poor and helpless Pine Tree. What do you think Fordsy? Do you want to help me mutilate this thing that you claim is not Pine Tree?” Bill teased in a sing-song tone as he used an unnaturally long arm to flick the boy’s cap off his head. Dipper flinched slightly but didn’t really know what else to do. Half of him wanted to punch Bill in his giant stupid eye…but the other half of him was in shock about this horrible, cold man that had become his great uncle Ford. He felt so betrayed by him…and he simply couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that at this point Ford was treating Bill nicer than his own flesh and blood.

Ford rolled his eyes and snapped out, “what are you playing at Bill?”

“~Nothing~! Why don’t you just take a seat, relax and enjoy the show!” A chair suddenly appeared behind the man and knocked him into its plush cushions. The man made a quiet ‘oof’ but otherwise made no other complaint. Suspiciously, he shifted his gun into his lap and cast Bill a calculating glance. “This little guy has been looking up to you for months. Before you even met him! So, I’ll help him impress you with some painful fun. Hey, if you’re allowed to kill him then I’m certainly allowed to hurt him. You can stop me at any point. But only if you accept the fact that he is the _real_ Dipper Pines. What do you say, Stanford? Do we have a deal?”

Ford sighed heavily, “I have no clue what you are up to, Cipher, but don’t think for one second that I am stupid enough to make a deal with you for anything. I don’t know why you want me to believe that that is the real Dipper, but nothing that you can do will convince me. So, play your little game, but I’ll have none of it.”

Dipper felt a small hand wiggle its way into his dark hair. He shuddered as he attempted to make eye contact with his uncle, but the man seemed content to stare directly at Bill. Dipper could only bite his lip in indecision over what to do or how to react to this development. Strangely, he felt a ghost of a voice whisper into his mind that was so utterly Bill he couldn’t help but stiffen. “ _Well, well…Pine Tree. This wasn’t at all the plan that I had when I lured you here tonight, but I suppose we can still have a good ol’ time even if your hack of an uncle doesn’t want to play, hum?_ ”

“Don’t be stupid Bill. Ford will figure out that it’s really me,” Dipper said out loud in a desperate bid to convince himself. But the rippling fear that was tearing at his core was not doing much to help him believe. Dipper looked at his uncle hopefully, but the man kept his angry eyes fixed onto the shape that loomed behind him. Not even listening to his words.

The creature started to laugh manically. “Awww…poor Pine Tree is in denial. We’ll see who knows Sixer better, me, or you. For your sake, kid, I certainly hope it is you.” Bill turned his attention back to Ford, and he gave a gentlemanly tilt of his hat. Around Dipper and Bill, a stage appeared out of nowhere. With a loud click of light, the stage erupted into the focal point in the darkness. “Well, well, well…Fordsy, since you are the sole focus of this performance…do you have any suggestions as to where we start tonight? Don’t be shy~! Any suggestion is a good suggestion! What would you like me to do to this little boy that you claim is not yours? Cut his tongue out?” Dipper felt a sudden rush of dread. “Explode his eyeballs?”

Bill wouldn’t really do that, would he? Dipper’s heart skipped a beat when he realized that he wasn’t kidding anyone with that thought. Of _course_ , Bill was being serious. The problem was that Ford didn’t think he was. He was suddenly filled with an overwhelming sense of fight or flight. He reached desperately behind his back and grabbed tightly to any part of Bill he could manage. He had to fight him off. He finally grabbed onto what felt like one of Bill’s sides, but as soon as he could feel the firm metallic surface beneath his fingertips, it completely melted away. “Bill! Let go of me! This isn’t funny!” he yelled and struggled as Bill’s shrill laughing permeated the air. Finally, he tripped over his own two feet and began to roll around on the ground desperately trying to pry the demon off his back.

“Why don’t _you_ go puke out your own guts, Cipher? I already told you I want no part in whatever this is.” Ford grunted, clearly irritated at what he thought was fake Dipper struggling on the stage.

“HAHA! Great suggestion Sixer! Gut puking it is !” Bill’s voice echoed from the stage, and suddenly the presence on his back dissipated.

Dipper struggled to his feet in clumsy stumbles. His head whipped around the stage, and he felt a sudden pain in his stomach. Oh, no, no, no, no, no…he did not what this to happen. Frantically he looked to Ford for help, but the man seemed to be staring blankly at the ceiling.

“Ford…” Dipper croaked, feeling something moving in him that had no right to be moving. “Grunkle Ford…please…” he begged the fear rushing through him in an endless loop. As he brought his hand to his stomach he felt things stirring around unpleasantly. He felt suddenly faint as something bulged, and he gagged. “J-Just tell Bill I’m real, and then I will go. I promise I won’t come into your mindscape again. Really, what’s the worst that can happen? If I’m not real and this happens…then Bill wins an argument…but if I am real—which I am, Grunkle Ford—you are going to allow Bill to—blegggg!” Dipper didn’t get to finish that thought as he was suddenly doubling over in pain and spitting up a large lugi-like substance onto the pristine wooden floor.

Ford did not respond. Of course, he did not respond. If he responded to Dipper that would be the same as accepting that he was real and not a figment of Bill’s imaginary evil.

Dipper gagged again, but this time, whatever it was stopped half way up his esophagus. He attempted to suck in a breath but couldn’t. His airway was, after all, blocked. The fear came in staggering waves and he knew that he really, really, really didn’t want to know what was in his throat. He didn’t want to gag again. It took another couple of seconds before the natural reactions of his body took over, and caused him to gasp for breath. The spasms caused his gag reflex to act up again and then suddenly whatever was in his throat started to come up. His eyes filled with tears as he pressed his forehead to the ground and did his best to ignore the feelings that his body was experiencing. _This is not real. This is the mindscape._ This is all in my head. Dipper attempted to tell himself as horrifying wet squelching noises filled his ears. He squeezed his eyes shut as he felt something coming out of his mouth hit the floor.

He still couldn’t breathe. It suddenly struck him that everything inside his body was connected. If Bill was really making him puke his guts out everything would be attached—he gagged again and more unnameable substances piled onto the floor in front of him—if everything was attached…he wouldn’t be able to breathe until everything was on the outside of his body. He cried and dug silently at the ground, but he could not make any sounds besides the gagging slop and slirp of his body. Would he be able to puke his lungs out of his body? He wondered in utter terror. Would he be able to breathe again when his esophagus was also choked out?

Dipper tried to tell himself that this wasn’t real. That his real body was asleep in his room upstairs with Mable…but nothing he thought could counteract the pain the churned in his stomach, or the horrible slick sensation of his organs coming up his throat. He couldn’t breathe…could not even scream in the terror that he felt. And his uncle Ford was just watching and doing nothing to contribute to helping him. All the man had to say was that Bill was right. But he couldn’t even do that because he was so convinced that his…his…ex? —whatever they were, he didn’t care—was lying to him and he was too proud to admit that on this one small topic Bill had been telling the truth. He wasn’t even being forced into a deal! He just had to admit that Dipper was real and all of this would go away.

Bill was laughing loudly again, but Dipper could barely hear it through his haze of terror and disgust. “This was a _great_ idea Sixer! I didn’t even know that humans had so many organs!” Dipper opened his eyes when he felt that the voice was right beside him. He looked up to see Bill studying him carefully without moving. This, of course, turned out to be the wrong thing to do as Dipper caught sight of all of his organs piled up on the floor. They seemed to be oozing liquids and were a disgustingly fleshy looking combination of colors. The sight of his own organs flooding the ground before him was the most…indescribable situation he had ever experienced. _Oh, god_ …and the panic that it created. He tried to cry out, but it came in a rather sloppy sucking choke. Panic moved his body in an unexpected way as he was suddenly grabbing a hold of the mess and attempting to shove it back down his throat that was still gagging out more.

He felt lightheaded, as Bills terrifying laugh mocked his desperate attempts. “Ohhhh!!! Look, look, Sixer! He’s doing something interesting now! He’s trying to shove his fist down his mouth!” Ford only made a noncommittal grunt as he continued to stare blankly at the ceiling.

Trying to force the organs back down did nothing to help. In fact, it made matters worse when he would gag things up into his already full mouth, giving it a completely different sensation of choking.

The boy couldn’t take it anymore. This was terrible. He wanted to die. This had to end. If he severed his link between the organs, maybe he could stop this madness? Spitting out everything that was currently in his mouth he bit down hard on the link that attached what was inside him to what was outside him. The pain was sharp and intense, and though his brain was telling him he should be experiencing the painful sensation located in his abdomen…the pain actually came from his mouth. Whatever he bit was like rubber, and it did not want to come apart easily. He tried grinding his teeth together…but through the immense pain, the substance did not give way. His stomach was contracting now, and he recognized that at this point he should be unconscious. But awareness worked differently in the mindscape…so he couldn’t expect the luxury.

“What do you think, Sixer? You don’t look very impressed. He’s biting through his intestines right now! Or at least, it looks like he’s trying too.” Bill narrated for Ford, who no doubt was still looking at the blankness of the nonexistent sky.

“I don’t know why you’re so into this, Cipher. This doesn’t hold any amusement for you, surely?”

“Ohhh, you don’t know the half of it. It’s really Pine Tree. There is so much amusement to be had. Do you know how betrayed he is that you won’t do anything to save him? HA! He literally thinks that you’re too proud to admit your wrong.” Bill leaned closer to Dipper, but the boy was passed the point of caring. Through the pain and tears, all he wanted was to be able to gnaw through the thing in his mouth so that he could be out of his misery. “And, he wants to die! Meatsacks wanting to die is hilarious! Though…poor Pine Tree isn’t much of a meatsack anymore. I kind of like him better this way. He’s a lot quieter and more docile. What do you think?”

“I think I don’t understand what you are trying to accomplish by playing with a non-existent shadow.”

Dipper did not want to concentrate on what his uncle was saying. The apathy to his torture was staggering to the point that he didn’t know what to think on the matter. He’d never seen this side of his uncle, and he couldn’t say that he was pleased with him. Part of him thought that his uncle was just being like this because Bill Cipher was a horrible demon that couldn’t be trusted…but there was another part of him that wondered at the lack of reaction when faced with even a fake image of his nephew being tormented. How could he not react at all to it?

Dipper bit through the substance in his mouth which dropped to the pile on the floor with a loud, _splat_. A disgusting taste of raw meat, bodily fluids, and digested matter filled his mouth but he couldn’t help think that it was no worse than everything else that had come out of his mouth in the past minutes. Besides which, his head was filtering between the sharpness of the pain and the lightness of his clouded mind. Great, jerky convulsions took over his body as he curled into a fetal position. He still couldn’t breathe and his eyes seemed to be rolling back in his head. But he couldn’t take it anymore. He knew he was being forced to stay conscious—on some level he knew this wasn’t real—but the torment was so terrible at this point that he just wanted to moan and gasp and ride it out.

A part of him wanted to think that maybe his uncle would take pity on him and save him, but there was another part of him that was slowly accepting the fact that the man was so blinded by his hatred for Bill Cipher, he would sooner doom the world than admit any kind of defeat against the demon. A man with an inability to concede to another is a dangerous man in the manner that he is constrained by his own pride. In this regard, Ford was both obliged and confined by stubbornness of his own making.

Dipper’s eyes were half-lidded and staring blankly into the bright stage lights when a triangular shadow cast over his form. Bitterly he thought of the irony that came in the golden halo of light that surrounded the demon, but his thoughts were slowly becoming lethargic and disjointed. The voices in the room had hollowed to a dull echo of sound that was more like the distant beating of a drum than the meaningful syllables of a language. If he focused hard enough, he could almost make out the words they were saying.

“…dying…er…ou sure …don…lp?” His mind was lost at this point enough that he was losing the understanding of who was talking. All that was left was the pain…and it hurt so much that it hurt to even focus on that. He felt he was drifting off into a gray abyss, and the disgusting laying in his own filth he no longer recognized. At this point, he was averse to admit that he wouldn’t care if the silent shadows swallowed him whole. “…ible …fine with…You…ry if…som…g el…ssssss,” the sounds blended in with the light, but distantly the child felt something of a firm touch on his arm. Only, it was so distant and slight that it felt like a press against the numbness, or that someone was touching him through several layers of fabric.

A hook in his consciousness ebbed away to the throbbing of his core. Somewhere the searing heat of a flame melted his flesh, and in an entirely separate place, his breath came back accompanied by the sound of screaming. Yet, both were disconnected from him and so completely removed from his blurry consciousness that on some level it didn’t even matter if it existed or not. Still, something was fanning his thoughts with a cool breeze and a balm for the pain. It called to him with light caresses and eked him out of the lost darkness he had fallen into. When he became aware again, it was to the soft soothing of a small hand running small concentric circles into his abdomen.

Then, with a suddenness like being doused with water, the awareness was back in aggravated muscles and sweat coated flesh. There was dampness to his face and shivering to his frame. At that moment, the comfort of the hand was too much, he found himself bursting into tears. He reached shaky hands to the outstretched, black limb that pushed small waves of gentle energy into his excruciatingly pained abdomen. On some level, his brain recognized that it was Bill Cipher that had done this to him, while on a higher level he was aware that it was Bill Cipher that was feeding him those cool waves of healing. Comparatively, none of that mattered as he gripped tightly to the lifeline that had reached out to him, and he could scarcely care that his lips were leaking gratitude like his eyes’ tears. “Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou…” he mouthed silently from his swollen, discolored lips.

The placating gesture of kindness eventually chased away the soreness to a dull ache. As was the case, the boy’s thoughts and awareness came back in small and tentative waves. It was as though the pain had chased away his senses, and now, all that remained was a fear of the repercussions in coming back to the faux-reality of the mindscape after being so recently abused. 

Bill was standing on his chest, he eventually realized. The triangle seemed frustrated again, and Dipper found his slowly returning mind wondering if that was because Ford had said something that he did not approve or something else entirely. He craned his neck to see that Ford was no longer in his chair staring blankly into the distance. The man had moved to the edge of the stage, from his position, Dipper could only his shoulders and up. From what he could see, Ford was watching Bill with a most peculiar expression.

“Did—” Dipper asked quietly, voice cracking and burning from the pain of the previous activities. He wanted to ask Ford—but he doubted that his voice would carry so far, and he did not have high expectations that the man to answer. Instead, he directed his question at the small demon still pressing energy into his pained body. “B-Bill…” he started again, “Did he admit that I’m real yet?” Dipper rasped before choking like he was swallowing shards of glass.

“No, Pine Tree,” Bill returned as though bored. The slight squint of his eye and his stiff posture; however, denoted to irritation.

“Oh,” the child responded numbly, though numbness was a temporary state. There was a sudden rush and terrible dread as he realized that this was far from over. He tightened his grip on Bill’s arm and tried to pry it away. He needed to get away. He needed to wake up and get to his own mind before Bill continued the next segment in this fine game of ‘making uncle Ford cry uncle.’ His grip, however, was surprisingly weak, and Bill’s arms were surprisingly steadfast. “Bill…” he implored, but the beast didn’t change his attention away from the soothing energy that continued to flow. “P-please don’t go for a second round. I…I don’t think I can take it. I get it; Grunkle Ford is being a jerk to you. I have no clue what went on between the two of you. I…I’m starting to think I don’t want to know. But, erm…you can totally beat him. You really don’t need me in the equation. Frankly…I’m sure you can figure out a better form of revenge. You really don’t have to use me for this.” Dipper didn’t know how one would go about convincing the yellow demon into doing something…but he was to the point of grasping at straws and would try anything. Honestly, his uncle Ford was probably the easier of the two to convince to do something and given the circumstances that was saying a lot. But there had to be a way out of this situation that didn’t involve his death.

Bill only crinkled up his eye in amusement before laughing loudly. “Ha! Look Fordsy!” Bill broke contact to shift his form so that he could have a better look at the singular audience member. Dipper gasped in pain when whatever Bill had been trying to fix him suddenly stopped. He bit down, hard on his tongue to keep from screaming and his hands lost their grip on the demon. Instead, they shifted to his stomach…which seemed oddly empty now that he was pressing his hands against it. He didn’t want to think about what that meant was going on in his abdomen. Desperately he tried to control his breathing and focus on Bill’s words to anchor him from the pain. “The kid has given up so completely on you that he’s now trying to reason with _me_ to get him out of this situation. That’s…beyond words. It kind of makes me want to move forward with this just to see what other kinds of crazy things he’ll come up with. See, Sixer, that’s why Sixer 2.0 © is so much better than you. Unlike you, who gives up when the going gets tough, this kid adapts!”

Ford seemed to completely ignore the comment as his pensive expression shifted tentatively onto the moaning Dipper. “I still don’t understand what you are playing at, Cipher. You could snap your fingers and your shadow beast could be fixed. Why are you bothering to put on a show to fix him?”

“As much as I love a good show, that’s not what this is,” the demon let out a heavy sigh. “Manipulating a real person that is—” Bill used finger quotes as he said, “‘injured’ within the mindscape is more difficult because the—in this case Pine Tree’s—conscience believes the perceived injured state is correct, and for all intents and purposes: _real_. To immediately fix something as grievous as this—” the creature gestured apathetically at Dipper who began to feel his vision returning to inconsistent fluctuations, “—would actually result in his subconscious will returning it to the previous and undesired state.” Bill folded his lithesome arms across his front surface as he leaned backward to slowly float closer to Dipper. “The only way to fix it is gradually, so that his base thoughts believe in the change.” The noncommittal shrug was used as a transition so that he was again standing on the prostrate boy, and reaching down with a glowing hand.

“Pretense,” Ford snorted dryly.

Dipper felt Bill’s fingers transform into sharp claws as they dug into his chest. He let out a pained gasp, but it was only momentary. Within the next breath, the warm flow of energy was back and all pains diminished into a benumbed ache.

“That would be what I am best at,” the triangle hummed in terse amusement and an uncomfortable silence settled. Dipper, with his pains (somewhat) abated, found himself the only maladroit component of the trio. He shifted under Bill’s weightless presence and likewise moved his eyes to the stage lights that blinded the faux stage. Bill would be the first to break the silence, he was certain. This quietness that settled around the three of them could only be logically associated with Ford, and himself. Nothing of Bill’s personality was quiet in any degree of the term.

Ford’s face tensed perceptively as he placed his six fingered hands onto the wooden surface of the platform and he hoisted himself up in a susurrus of moving fabric. “Ehem…” the man cleared this throat noisily in a manner that Dipper recognized as indecision as he discreetly made his way toward where the boy lay. “Cipher,” the gruff man rumbled. “What are you trying to do?” He balled his fists. “ _Really_?”

It seemed that though Ford was the first to break the quiet, Bill still wished to prolong the moment. He made no move of recognition that he was listening to the man, which seemed to spur his uncle on further.

Meanwhile, Dipper watched blankly as his sunken abdomen slowly filled. He could feel it rise slightly from his hands that rested on it. Strange was the only word that could describe the sensation of slowly being filled with things that were always supposed to be there.

In a sharp motion, the old man snapped. He threw his hands into the air with intense ire. “I mean, you can’t honestly expect me to believe that this—awful rendition is my nephew. I know it. You know it. We both know it! And still, you want to tease me with these conjured images and tempt me into—into some kind of reaction when you torment it. What do you expect of me? —to moan and begroan your cruelty? —to plead with you to desist from your abuse? Whereas before I may have been a man of weak constitution, I am not such a man any longer. Whatever emotions you are trying to evoke from me; you will not succeed. I will not succumb to your baiting. So, whatever it is you are trying to achieve from doing this, the entire matter is moot as I will not play your game.”

It was hard to swallow this cold and unfeeling persona that wore his great uncle’s face. If he were not so entirely sure that this was Ford, he would have been convinced the man was just an appalling reproduction. But Dipper was confident in his Grunkle’s ability to deny Bill anything, even to the point that it could be potentially detrimental to someone else. Really, he just wished that it wasn’t him that was in this horrible position between the two warring personalities.

Bill seemed to enjoy this development far more than either Dipper or Ford could ever have expected. The cachinnating was so loud, and so completely inappropriate under the circumstances that Dipper couldn’t even fathom how anything that Ford had said could have ever constituted such amusement. Bill threw himself onto Dipper’s chest so that he could flail and roll about (as best as can be expected from a triangular figure) in his hysteria. He wiped away large mirthful tears from his eye as he found it in himself to reply. When he did; however, there was a somber sort of anger in his humor that designated a terrible undertone.

“The irony of this situation is absolutely delicious. Fine, Ford, you win. I accept your rock hard indifference. I understand that you won’t admit that this is your little meatsack. I won’t even try to get a reaction out of you for this. In fact, I hope that I cannot garner even the most minuscule amount of sympathy from you. The deal; however, does still stand. You have the power to stop this at any time if you admit this is Pine Tree.” Bill glowed brightly as he finished. The beast practically radiated a sarcastic smirk as he looked to Ford, with his hands still resting on Dipper’s torso as he partially sat on the boy.

The retort seemed to only turn Ford ridged with agitation. “What are you attempting?” the man seethed out.

Bill just laughed and returned his attentions to Dipper. “Inaction is still an action, my friend.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“It means what it means. Jezze. You must be going senile in your old age, Sixer. Anyway! Little bitty Pine Tree is all fixed up for now. Which meansssssss that we are on to the NEXT GAME!” in a rush of energy Bill was again airborne. A faceless crowd entered into existence without warning, filling the previously empty audience with loud cheers. The plaudits of approval resounded as the demon adjusted his bow tie and smiled with his closed eye.

Feeling somewhat better physically—after the beast’s assistance and simultaneously infinitely worse—by the words spoken in tandem, Dipper attempted to slip away unnoticed. He carefully rolled onto his stomach and transferred his weight to his hands and knees in a desperate bid for escape. Fear had completely overrun his mind and he could already feel his limbs begin to tremble in anticipation of the terror to come. He knew it was futile and that there was no escape, at least, not until either Ford admitted he was real, or he died. Yet he was desperate enough to make the attempt despite this.

“Cipher—” Ford began before being interrupted.

“No–no–no–! Pine Tree, stop it!” Bill quickly turned his attentions to where Dipper was trying to drag himself away. In an instant, the crowd was booing loudly. Bill blinked out of reality, only to blink back in, directly in front of Dipper. His boneless arms were at his sides and he looked completely unimpressed.

“Listen, Bill—” Dipper began before gasping loudly as two additional arms shot directly out of the monster’s back and elongated in endless tendrils of darkness. Dipper stumbled to his feet and ran in the direction of his Grunkle. “ _Ford _!” he cried desperately before screaming as the black arms wrapped endlessly around his torso and lifted him into the air like some kind of human sacrifice. Disappointed, Dipper took that moment to realize that a sacrifice is exactly what he had become: a human sacrifice to the whimsy of Bill Cipher and the ignorance of Stanford Pines. As Dipper struggled in the inhuman hold, the crowd cheered loudly.__

____

____

“You can’t leave yet, Pine Tree. We are just getting started! And you are the star of this show!” A black backdrop fell onto the stage behind them with innumerous stars sparkling. “It would be a travesty to stop once it has begun! The show _must_ go on!”

With this newest declaration, Dipper felt the hands unwinding from his body in accelerated swirls of motion. Yet, much to his duress, once the hands had left him and faded into a dark mist he was still suspended into the air by some kind of invisible force. He could not feel any ground below him, nor could he feel any defining pressure holding him there. His mind was only able to define the experience as sedentary floating in the fact that he was tethered to his position without being bound to it by gravity. Looking down sent a dichotomy of contradictions into his shuddering form. On the one hand, there was a trill of exhilaration that buzzed through his veins from the prospect of almost flying. The other side of him was led by queasy sickness—not attributed to his newly formed organs—but rather originating from the fear of the staggering height and the realization that Bill Cipher was the one that truly held him up. As such, Dipper’s trust in the yellow creature contained the fragility of glass. It made him wonder if his next trial would be made through being repeatedly dropped from increasing heights. Be that the case, the youth was certain the consequent of that possibility would lead to a new found fear of heights.

“AHAHA!” The eudemonic creature burst out in a light of good-natured humor. “Your suggestions, while milder than Sixer, are equally amusing, Pine Tree.”

In a reflexive twist of his head, Dipper was lead to looking below at the small floating triangular body. His face twisted into an expression laden with latent anxiety and confusion. Again, there was the despairing need to show strength, and will to fight this situation. Even given the mistakes of his Grunkle Ford (from this particular set of circumstances), an unbidden image of him arguing confidently with the demon filled Dipper’s racing thoughts. Still, this idea of his idol is what he wanted to aspire to. He wanted to make some kind of caustic remark. He wanted to be able to cleverly challenge the multi-dimensional creature. Yet, his hands were shaking and his mouth was dry with speechlessness. Too riddled were his nerves with unease that the confidence to speak was quickly snuffed. In that moment, he felt that he had lost.

Bill was expanding now. All his angles were shooting out in opposite directions and stretching into immense proportions. Dipper was forced to lift his gaze above—even from the small child’s advantageous height in the air—as the creature continued to grow large enough to loom above him. Dipper felt his breath freeze in his lungs as natural and animalistic fears filled his erratically beating heart. From his position and proximity, he could not see any edges of the yellow beast. Its eye alone was enormous enough to fill up the bulk of his vision.

The terrors intensified, and Dipper found himself doing his best to shrink into himself and cast the shadows of his vest collar and bill of his hat onto his person. It didn’t even cross his mind that the gesture was completely futile due to the yellow-hued illumination that Bill cast on everything. At this point, Bill was a triangular sun in the universe of the mindscape and Dipper was a puny planet that revolved around his whims. Dipper had already lost himself in the vastness of Bill’s extensive reaches, and his mind had slipped away to thoughtless shock. It was with a jolt that he remembered himself when Bill laughed again.

Taking his football field sized hands and cupping them gently around the air that Dipper was floating within, Bill used his nasal and dissonant tenor to command the room. The rumbling of the crowd settled into silence as the pyramid sized triangle spoke. “HA! But, really, as much as I would love to lift you up into the air and slam you against the ground— _repeatedly_ —so that you could shatter like glass…I’m aaaaaaaall booked for suggestions tonight! I’ve got a full plan! A tight schedule! I want to play to my preferences now. _You_ know, I’ve been so giving to others lately; I’ve really just got to sit back, relax, and have some me time. Maybe I’ll take up your suggestion at a later date. A rain check, if you will.” There was a slight pause as Bill’s gigantic eye blinked for a second and a light rain passed for dramatic effect. “But tonight, I think, I should stick to what I just now came up for you and my precious Fordsy. What do you think, Pine Tree? Dare to trust my expertise on this subject? I am a master of the mind, after all. I know what the best kinds of night terrors are.”

Dipper was certain that Bill did know, too. Very little doubt in the idea would have ever crossed his mind. This was, in fact, the area of expertise that the boy most wanted to avoid in context with the one-eyed demon, and was most secure in his belief in Bill’s abilities. By this point in time, triangles had become the epitome of nightmares to the brunet. As such, there was nothing for him to say in regards to the obviously rhetorical question. It was also here that he noted that he wanted absolutely nothing to do with whatever plans that had been thought out. Unfortunately, as per usual, this was also an area that he did not get any summation of choices in the matter. Doubtlessly the nightmares would continue and he would be at the root of them all.

“Well then, Pine Tree, let’s see what holds a pine tree together, shall we?”


End file.
